


On the Road

by tabaqui



Series: Obsession [8]
Category: Angel: the Series RPF, Buffy the Vampire Slayer RPF
Genre: M/M, Psychological Torture, RPF, Stalking, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-17
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2019-03-05 21:23:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13396500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tabaqui/pseuds/tabaqui
Summary: The song/music being played isIstvan Marta - Doom. A sigh (performed by the Kronos Quartet)It's chilling and terribly sad, particularly if you read the notes that accompany it.





	On the Road

**Author's Note:**

> The song/music being played is [Istvan Marta - Doom. A sigh (performed by the Kronos Quartet)](https://youtu.be/e-LQ7nBQcjA)
> 
> It's chilling and terribly sad, particularly if you read the notes that accompany it.

On the Road  


A woman was crying somewhere. Crying and singing, and it was the most horrible thing Christian had ever heard. She was _sobbing_ , but her voice was muffled, as if she had been recorded in a hole, huddled somewhere in fear for her life. Jangling, discordant violin music played over and around her voice and Christian wanted to scream for it to stop.  


But he couldn't, because Jason had pressed fucking _duct tape_ over his mouth before slinging him into the backseat of Christian's own truck like a bag full of laundry. Ankles bound together, fraying rope ends tickling his feet, forearms bound together in the small of his back, fingers clutching at his elbows, no chance to get at the knots.  


His whole abdomen on fire from the cuts, but wrapped up, at least; smeared with Christian's A&D he kept for when his hands got so winter-chapped, wrapped around with a clean pillowcase and half a roll of medical tape.  


Jason drove like a psycho motherfucker, just like he did everything else. Way over the speed limit, hitting potholes and washboards and high-water crossings like they were nothing, sending the truck screaming around corners in a rooster-tail of gravel and dust, rocks kicking up into the undercarriage like hail. Driving one-handed, faint little grin on his face, that fucking _noise_ coming out of Christian's speakers like the damned souls in hell and Christian could feel himself on the brink of some kind of hysterical _break down_.  


He gritted his teeth and kicked his bare feet, _hard_ , into the back of the driver's seat, jolting Jason and making him laugh out loud. Christian kicked again and this time Jason twisted in the seat, shooting a furious glare at Christian. Utterly ignoring the road ahead, and Christian shouted as best he could behind the tape.  


Jason turned back around and snapped the truck back into the center of the road, narrowly avoiding sending them nose-first into a ditch deep enough to wreck the truck's axle. Jason reached over and dialed down the horrible noise coming out of the speakers, which was something, at least.  


"Knock it off, Christian. You ain't wearin' a seatbelt."  


' _Don't fucking care_ ', Christian thought, but he kind of did. Ditching the truck wouldn't mean he'd be free - he'd just be trapped in the truck - or a ditch - maybe with broken bones or something while Jason either walked away and left him there, or tried to drag him along.  


Or killed him, which was probably how all this was going to end, anyway, but Christian sure as fuck wasn't going to end it any sooner than he had to. He had to stay alive, long enough for the police to find him. Long enough for this murdering, rabid, junkyard dog _serial killer_ to be taken out.  


Had to.  


They drove for a while - Christian had no idea how long, losing stretches of time only to blink back into awareness as he was flung from one side to the other of the narrow back seat. Eventually, though, they hit blacktop - a highway or interstate - and Christian managed to get himself upright, feet and knees braced. Leaning forward a little to take the pressure off his bound arms, though that didn’t do his sore shoulders any favors.  


At least the horrible noise was over. Jason had plugged a thumb drive into Christian’s stereo and it was currently playing something Christian guessed was punk music (he was pretty sure he’d identified a Ramones song, but the rest was more obscure, some in German). It was still noise to Christian's ears.  


Jason didn’t sing along, or seem to notice it much - he drove over the speed limit and refused to be behind any other vehicle for any length of time. He would glance in the rear view occasionally and grin at Christian, and it made the hairs on the back of Christian’s neck stand up.  


Christ, he was never going to make it out of this alive.


End file.
